Jealousy and Golden Bullets
by Rasiaa
Summary: "You're a very cruel girl, Hermione Granger."


_for fountainofstars_

* * *

His eyes, in the right light, shone gold.

Maybe that's why she did this.

It's a charming little spell, not very useful, but it's cute enough for now.

It's enough. It helps.

…

Lavender rides on a happy high, and it's brutal to watch. She doesn't begrudge the girl happiness, but she can't help the jealousy that threatens to choke her when she sees her with Ron.

She snaps more quills than she writes with, much to her dismay. She curses under her breath when the tip cuts her finger. Ron glances at her. "Alright, Hermione?" he checks, blue eyes wide and concerned. Her heart skips a beat and she feels a bit breathless, which is stupid.

This is stupid.

"I'm fine," she says.

And in reference to her finger, that's true. It's nothing, really. But she's not fine, because as soon as Ron is satisfied that he doesn't have to do anything drastic, he turns around and pulls Lavender on his lap and starts to kiss her.

She would say she can't believe it, but that's not true. Ron is often unintentionally cruel.

Lavender digs her fingers into Ron's shirt. She opens her eyes, and their eyes meet. Lavender stares at her while she kisses him, making aborted little movements that she'd be hard-pressed to miss. It's inappropriate, but this is a school full of teenagers so no one bats an eye.

She feels tears rising in her eyes and she's breathless now for a completely different reason.

They've never been friends, but this is a whole new low she never thought Lavender would reach.

…

She makes herself content with sitting close enough only to help him with his essays, only able to touch in casually accidental ways. Harry is oblivious, much as she wished he weren't; she would like to talk to someone even though she knows he would very much not like to hear about it. She would talk to Ginny but she's involved with Harry now, and she won't interrupt. She briefly considers Luna but discards that idea immediately. Luna would listen but she isn't sure she'd like the Ravenclaw's responses.

She writes to her mother, but never sends the letter. She's quietly afraid of what her father would say if he found it; he's always seen her as his baby girl and she's been telling him that she's not in love with Harry or Ron for years. That's changed now and she doesn't want to let him down.

She glances up through her eyelashes at her friends; the two boys are staring with matching looks of confusion and dread at the books in front of them. Amusement rises and she smiles slightly. Ron runs his hand through his hair, clearly fed up. She traces the movement with her eyes, imagining that her fingers were running through his hair instead. He looks down at the book again and grimaces, eyes flitting to the side. He briefly bites his lip and she gives up on concentrating on anything else.

"What?" he asks.

She jumps inwardly, surprised, but then schools her expression into a deadpan look. "You haven't gotten anything done," she accuses, looking pointedly at his blank parchment.

He scowls. "It's all rubbish, anyway," he says, a bit petulant. As he leans back the light from the window catches the gold flecks in his blue eyes.

It's a gorgeous color.

"You need it for the exams," she says.

He looks at her incredulously. She honestly can't blame him. She's just kidding herself now if she thinks the exams still matter.

"Pass me that book, will you?" Harry pipes up suddenly, barely looking up as he scribbles away on his parchment. Clearly, something somewhere just clicked.

She hands over the requested tome with a barely concealed grimace of her own. These books are ridiculously heavy.

Ron looks at Harry's paper with contempt, gaze distant. She wishes she knew of something to help him, but she can't think of anything that wouldn't piss him off right now or that wouldn't cross a boundary that she shouldn't even get close to.

Harry keeps writing and she ducks her head so she can keep looking at Ron through her bangs, pulling the book in front of her up further to further conceal her face. Ron, of course, doesn't notice her behavior, so she feels somewhat comfortable in allowing her to appreciate just what Quidditch has been doing for him.

Then she feels a weight on her shoulders so she turns. Lavender stares at her.

…

Ginny catches on eventually.

The girl is ridiculously perceptive, but she thinks vaguely that Ginny wouldn't have to be to catch this.

Girls always notice this kind of thing.

"You and Ron, huh?"

She jumps, heart in her throat as Ginny sits next to her.

"No," she says. "He has a girlfriend, and wouldn't be interested even if he didn't."

"So?" Ginny asks. "Doesn't change the fact that you're burning holes in the back of his head with your heart eyes."

She feels a rush of humiliation and swallows, looking down. Ginny touches her arm lightly. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that," she says.

"I know," she answers. And she does know - Ginny isn't necessarily good with words but she got the point. "I just…"

"Fell in love," Ginny finishes.

She groans, burying her face in her hands. "It's so stupid," she sighs. "He doesn't even like me most of the time."

"Stop being thick," Ginny snaps. "He wouldn't hang around if he didn't like you."

Logically, she knows Ginny is right. But doubts have plagued her for a while now, especially since tensions are running high on all fronts. She's never had time to be concerned with being a teenager and so feels completely unprepared even though she's almost of age.

Explaining this to Ginny is a difficult task. But she's good at listening.

"Look," Ginny says. "Ron and Lavender aren't doing so well. I think you can make a move soon if you want to. Just don't be overbearing."

Easier said than done.

…

She thinks of the gold in his eyes.

This spell is cute and is probably good for entertaining children. Little gold birds chirp around her.

Ginny was right; Ron and Lavender aren't doing well. But she was wrong when she said Ron might be receptive to any advance.

This was a bad fight.

She doesn't even remember most of it, or what started it. She hadn't even done much. But she must've stepped on his toes somehow because there was a lot of screaming and now she's in a dark hallway with golden birds and the cold wind from the window and tears on her face.

The color is still beautiful.

She sighs and wishes for a different outcome.

The little gold birds were good for children. Guiltily, she thinks briefly on using the spell for her own one day, but has to push that dream aside for way too many reasons.

"You're a very cruel girl, Hermione Granger."

She looks up, reflexively tightening her grip on her wand. She relaxes only a little when she sees Lavender.

The girl is a wreck. Makeup and tears stain her face and her hair is a mess. She doesn't bother to deny the fact that some part of her is pleased to see it.

"Why can't you just leave things alone?" Lavender demands. "We were happy! But you always have to stick your nose in where it isn't welcome and you - this is your fault!"

She isn't sure what Lavender is talking about. She rolls her eyes and turns away. Lavender screeches and she hears fast footsteps so she acts fast and the birds become something like bullets in a nanosecond, hitting the walls behind the other girl. Lavender bursts into tears.

"He always liked you better," she sobs. "What's so great about you anyway?"

She rears back in shock, her mind grasping at straws. She can connect the dots easily enough, but that's-

"He said your name. He said your name while we were-"

Lavender dissolves again. She briefly feels disgusted at the implication but then the rest of the sentence catches up to her.

She focuses on the wall behind Lavender just in time to see Ron turn the corner and pale.

"He likes you better," Lavender repeats, lost. She ignores her. Ron meets her eyes dead on. There's a possibility.


End file.
